From critter antics to farm chores to domestic bliss, musings from our farmtastic life to yours.

It’s that time of year when we reflect on the past 365 days – the glorious moments, the critter-filled challenges and antics, the experiences lived and the moments missed. It’s also that time of year when we look hopefully and optimistically into the next 365 days with dreams that we will make it count, challenge ourselves to be and do better, and, if you are like me, that tiny little nagging voice in your head that says, “Will you really live up to your own expectations?”

Oh yes, those little internal voices. Gremlins. Mine have had a lifetime of criticizing, chastising, and just downright tormenting me. That is until 2017 when the tide began to turn. It was a year of change, the time when I finally learned the meaning of enjoying the journey, and the beginning of being a-okay with my serious lack of perfection.

As one dear friend once said to me, “You suffer from the dreaded triple-P syndrome. You are a people pleasing perfectionist. You see, I recognize this, because I too am in recovery.” I laughed. I had an aha moment. Someone had named it for me. That was years ago. And so I kept that little jewel tucked away, hanging onto it and truly not knowing what to do with it.

I’d occasionally trot it out with friends to chat about my ailment. I’d make minor strides to try to keep myself in check, but truly on the inside me and triple-P were besties. We knew each other far too well. And because we knew each other so well, we had no intention of parting ways anytime soon.

Then 2017 came along and things began to shift for me. For some reason, I decided to heck with resolutions, because who am I kidding, I never kept them anyway. Instead, I made a vision board filled with words and images and thoughts that inspired me, that laid out the life I wanted to live. It was fun – I cut, pasted, and scrapped until my heart was content. I framed it and hung it on my wall. It’s still there. It still speaks to me.

Something started with that vision board. I started thinking about the person I wanted to be, the things I wanted to try, the possibilities. But not the possibilities that were like my typical New Year’s eve rush of resolution panic, but true possibilities. I started listening, listening to my insides. My not so perfect but oh so me insides.

Then came springtime, and things lined up just right; I had my soul listening ears on, and I hired a life coach. I did it on a whim. I saw her website, and thought “Why not?” And before I could talk myself out of why I didn’t need to spend the money or convince myself that I’d be the same me at the end of it, just with less cash in my pocket, I signed up for an exploratory session, and IT. CHANGED. MY. LIFE.

I met with my coach every other week for 6 months. I discovered who I wanted to be, who I didn’t want to be, and how to harness the little voices in my head and turn them from tormentors into cheerleaders. Now let’s be serious, it was not all roses, rainbows, and unicorns. There were tough moments. Moments of doubt and frustration. But my world slowly went from black and white, to shades of grey, to full on technicolor magic.

When I look back on 2017 I see where I went head to head with some of my most ingrained thoughts on what it means to be spiritual, what it means to live my best life, what it means to follow my creativity, what it means to plan but still hope and dare and most of all find deep down, soul loving joy.

For maybe the first time in my life, I started to believe in me. In the possibilities all around. Oh and trust me, I have oodles more work to do. I mean when you spend a lifetime letting your gremlins drive the car, sometimes you still have to take a stick and whack them into the backseat.

Find the good in 2017 and work for the joy in 2018!

So on this New Year’s Eve, as you sit and ponder if 2018 will be different, I encourage you to listen to the messages that are swirling around you, the good people in your life who are encouraging you, and take a chance on something that just might make all of the difference for you. Sure, your gremlin voices might party like it’s 1999 tonight, but tomorrow they will totally be passed out in the back seat.

P.S. When looking for a life coach, you need to find someone who clicks with you, as you are building a relationship. Trust is critical. You’ll also want someone who has their certification and is a professional. Because I think she’s absolutely the best, I can’t recommend Kelsey Joy highly enough, and I look forward to continuing to work with her in 2018.

P.P.S. I’ve learned tons throughout my journey 2017, and I’ll work to create some short vignettes to share those lessons with y’all. I can’t wait to continue to get my learn on in 2018.

Share this:

Like this:

Trees are going up. Lights are twinkling. Menus are being planned. Parties are in full swing. Giving is on our minds. Across this great big world, no matter what you celebrate, it’s the holiday season – from big cities to suburbs to small towns to rural communities.

In our family, it’s Christmas. Growing up, our tree glowed with colored lights and candy canes. Christmas pageants and plays afforded some slightly off-key singing. And Santa’s milk and cookies were always snickerdoodles. (Interestingly enough, those were also Dad’s favorite.) It’s a time filled with memories, from the emotional to the hilarious, like the year our new puppies pulled the tree over by leaping for the aforementioned candy canes.

Now well into adulthood (ahem … dare I say entering middle age), we continue to count on those traditions and build new ones. When Cowboy and I were newly married, Christmas was one of those times when when our families filled our home with the things we needed most like silverware, mixers, critter essentials, jeans, and boots.

We are grateful for all of those gifts that helped to make our house a home. We still treasure them. I mean how many parents don’t blink an eye when you ask for four mineral block holders for your horses for Christmas? Or horse steps so you can get your vertically challenged self closer to the saddle? (This last one is totally my issue by the way, not Cowboy’s.)

As we build on new traditions, we’ve begun to focus on experiences, like taking family to see a Christmas musical or hunting out the best Christmas lights, which also requires that the perfect mug of hot chocolate be brought along for the ride.

We’ve also become very aware of those that could use a little extra compassion, a helping hand. We’ve got amazing friends and family, and over time we have been shifting our gift giving to those organizations that need help to make this world we all share a better place. It’s fun to see which causes friends and family care most about and donate in their honor. Even our just-barely-a-teenager niece has gotten in on the act, finding an organization she thinks honors those she cares about. Those moments are priceless.

Which brings me back to this world we all call home. Let’s be honest, it’s been a tough year, especially if you spend any amount of time watching the news. From natural disasters to man-made ones, to politics that have divided more than united, 2017 has made us all a little weary. Our collective spirit could use a dose of holiday joy.

So when someone wishes you Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Merry Kwanzaa, Happy New Year, or just plain old Happy Holidays, let’s remember to take it with the grace and love it was intended. We could all stand to give each other a break, and realize that when someone is wishing you a merry or happy anything, they are simply sharing their best wishes for you. They are not entering into a religious or philosophical debate or argument. They are purely wishing you peace, joy, memories, and giving – all of the beauty that comes with this holiday season.

When you look around the world, we could all use a little more love, humor, and kindness. Share your memories, share your well wishes. And above all, share the love. Happy Christmas and Merry New Year from our farm to yours.

This is how we roll with Christmas at the farm – nothing a little stare down won’t fix. Seriously though, love all around.

Share this:

Like this:

As we welcome November and the promise of cooler weather, turkey leftovers, and family gatherings, we also enter the official spokes-month for gratitude. A time when we take a personal inventory of all that we are grateful for – from people to things, jobs to homes, children to critters. All of us have something to be thankful for, even in our darkest moments, and for many of us we can swell up with a feeling of being blessed.

But I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this word blessed. No doubt it’s trending right now – you can find it on everything from dish towels to picture frames. And it’s a perfectly good word. But it’s also a word that I think we sometimes get mixed up with grateful.

You see, blessed is a passive word, whereas grateful is an active word. Someone gives you a blessing, but you have to take an action to be grateful. Being grateful is a decision. We are fond of saying that God has blessed us. And trust me, I wholeheartedly believe He has, but maybe just not in the way we think.

Now if you feel like I’m on the edge of blasphemy here, please stick with me. I promise this will turn out okay.

Let’s say you have a beautiful home and a good job. It’s easy to say, “I’m so blessed.” But here’s the flip side. Is the person who lost their job not blessed? The person who is working two jobs just to make ends meet less blessed?

Or think about how often you’ve heard the phrase, “I’m blessed with good health.” Great, but does that mean the person who has cancer is not blessed? That they somehow incurred wrath from somewhere?

I can hear you thinking, “No way. That’s not what I meant at all.”

And I’m with you. What we really mean is that we are grateful for our homes, our jobs, our health. And we would never want our gratitude to be confused for the belief that we have somehow received divine preference over our neighbors.

Blessings are something that we, the collective humanity, share. Nature and life itself are blessings. Things we can all enjoy. I, personally, don’t believe they are doled out to a few, and I don’t believe they always look like we would expect them to.

And while this may seem like a game of semantics, words really do matter. (Yes, I was an English major, so humor me with this one for moment.) Think about someone whose world is falling apart. If you are busy talking about your blessings, things that are received, where does that leave them? It leaves them feeling like they are walking around under a dark cloud, out of sorts, out of favor.

Rather, share your gratitude. Your zest to acknowledge all that is beautiful, from the smallest to the greatest moments. Trust me, I am a recovering blessing user myself. I used to liberally smatter blessings here, there, and everywhere. But after reading an article about the importance of our words, I realized I was truly filled with gratitude. I wanted to wish people a beautiful day, a day with at least one moment of happy, and leave blessings to the big guy.

So as you start to make your plans for family dinners, school activities, and get togethers with friends, I encourage you to think about those words that are most meaningful for you and those you love. How will they impact others? How can you share your gratitude?

P.S. A version of this post was published in the Glen Rose Reporter. This farmgirl is delighted to serve as a community columnist.

Like this:

Okay, I’m going to admit it. We have not one itty bitty bit of pumpkin decor out at the farm. No farmhouse steps lined with white pumpkins and mums. No pumpkin spice latte in the percolator. Somewhere in the garden shed is my pumpkin welcome sign, which I may or may not bother to dig out. We’ll see.

As I scroll through Instagram, I see tons of tablescapes, porchscapes, and all kinds of farm-y scapes filled with pumpkins and leaves and just the right amount of bling. And did you know if you are decorating with pumpkins, the traditional rich orange is not your only choice? They come in all shades of sage green and cream so you can artfully blend them with the carefully crafted farmhouse look.

What’s the farmhouse look? As best as I can tell, it’s furniture slip covered in white, a little bit of distressed wood, a little bit of metal, a few antique-y things, and grey, beige, and white everywhere else.

It seems the concept of farmhouse is all the rage these days. I get it. It’s lovely and dreamy, and the Fixer Upper people have turned it into a lucrative business (seriously, that’s great for them). But for most of us living in the country, these pics are not even close to reality.

So for a little fall fun, I thought I’d debunk a few of the fall farmhouse decor myths, at least around this farmgirl’s humble barndominium.

White sofas – Who are we kidding with this one? Yes, it’s lovely. And yes you can bleach it, but heaven help me I’d be bleaching daily. It would remain white for all of two seconds before Maybelle bounded onto it with wet paws or a black cat decided to make it his scratching post.

This right here is why we do not have white sofas. If it’s not washable and can take a little dirt, it’s not happening at the farm.

Pumpkins by the dozens – Yes, pumpkins are great. But thanks to Starbucks and their PSL (pumpkin spice latte in case you’ve been hiding under a rock), pumpkin flavors and pumpkin decor are E.V.E.R.Y.W.H.E.R.E. And while folks used to get one pumpkin and carve it with the kiddos, the photo worthy farmhouses filling up my Instagram feed look as if they’ve had an 18-wheeler of pumpkins delivered. Seriously, the last time I had a pumpkin, it was lovely, right up until I left it outside, sitting too long on the porch bench, and well let’s just say it was not pleasant when I picked it up. And on a side note, I seriously do not remember all of this pumpkin crazy when we were kids. Our moms handed us the plastic pumpkin to go trick-or-treating, we watched It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, and called it good.

Accessories, lord honey, accessories – Look, we all love to decorate our houses. They are expressions of us. For Cowboy and I, it’s a mix of things we’ve collected over the years. Lately, though we’ve been on a real pairing down spree. Why? Because country living is dusty and messy. That’s right, when you live in the country with gravel driveways and large fields, well dust is just a fact of life. And while I truly adore all of those perfectly accessorized rooms, it’s just not practical. Not to mention, with dog tails wagging and cats climbing, things will get knocked over, broken, and worst of all, eaten. (And on that last one, if eaten stays down and doesn’t come back up or out to haunt you in another way, well then that’s a good critter day.)

Perfect porches – Now this one speaks to my heart of hearts. The porch is my home. I am out on my porch daily. It’s my happy place. But it does not constantly look like I am ready to host tea. I don’t have rugs and fabrics swathed all around. Why, you ask? Well, first of all, the aforementioned critters. Heck, I’m lucky if I can keep Maybelle from digging up my potted plants, or, worse, eating horse apple snacks. That means it’s slim to none, I’m going to keep fabrics pristine outside. Pillows? Let’s just say they’d be gone with the wind. After two summers of chasing chair cushions around the pasture, I finally wised up and bought ones that tie to the chairs. Brilliant! There is nothing like riding the tractor around the farm, weaving between horses, looking for chair cushions. Oh and what decor is on my porch right now? A snake grabber and a shovel. Sometimes you just have to do what you have to do.

Now I say a lot of this with fun and jest. We love fall and all the joy that comes with it. And I’m sure pumpkin something or other will appear at the farm before this season ends. (Seriously, all of this pumpkin madness has to be a real boom for pumpkin farmers. Two points for that.)

And to those farm style bloggers who can whip up some amazing decor and inspire us all, more power to you. You are some amazing folks. However, if you are reading this and are a bit more like this farmgirl, i.e. likely to be wandering around doing chores in an old t-shirt, jeans, and muck boots, your house slightly disheveled, the only white decor that stands a chance is your washable wood trim, and critters rule the roost, it’s perfectly okay.

Don’t feel guilty. Don’t think you have to run out and fill your grocery cart with pumpkins and somehow stack them with hay bales and mums in a way that is oh so extra. Don’t spend hundreds on craft supplies to make the perfect tablescape that is destined to be chewed on by the cat. Instead, enjoy your farm (or cottage, or house, or apartment), and whatever fall means to you. Drink a PSL if you like, or go rogue and drink a Dr. Pepper from a glass bottle while sitting barefoot on the porch reading a good book. (Personally, I pick cozy mysteries every time. )

And for all you ladies who make it looks so easy, God bless you. I do love the inspiration. But when I look at my own farm pics on Instagram, I have to remind myself that pumpkins and white sofas are just one of the many ways farmgirls can decorate our humble abodes. For the rest of us, washable denim and a can of Libby’s pumpkin will have to do.

Okay we have one pumpkin on the farm. But seriously – how can you not love this crazy girl? #maybellethemagnificent

P.S. I totally recognize the irony of writing this on the eve of visiting the Magnolia Silos. Maybe I just had to assure my wacky farmgirl self, who while not the quintessntial decorator, is still quite okay. At least in the eyes of Cowboy and the critters, and that’s all that matters.

Share this:

Like this:

Fourteen years ago, Cowboy and I came to Glen Rose, Texas for the very first time. As big time animal lovers, we had heard about Fossil Rim Wildlife Center and decided to make an overnight trip of it. We had absolutely no idea that one little overnight stay would change the course of our future.

On our day at Fossil Rim, we took a behind the scenes tour, rode around in an open-air Jeep, snapped tons of pictures (with actual film!), and made memories at every turn. And then we saw them. The majestic giraffes.

A combination of gangly grace, long eyelashes, and sticky sweet tongues. I had never been so close to these amazing creatures, and I was quickly falling head over heels in love. Our guide, the legendary Jan Bussey, parked near the herd and shared her knowledge and passion for Fossil Rim while we hand fed these beauties.

Oh my stars. I think I could have parked there all day head pointed up, hands outstretched, smile plastered across my face, and heart leaping for joy. I had found my spot.

Cowboy and I never forgot that trip. In fact, living in the Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex, Fossil Rim became our go-to daytrip for birthdays, anniversaries, or just a day out. We brought friends and family. We became ambassadors, telling anyone who would listen about the landscape and critters of Fossil Rim, most especially my beloved giraffes.

Not too long after we began visiting Glen Rose, Cowboy and I started looking for land, an escape from the city. We looked far and wide, even as far north as Oklahoma. We saw little pieces and big pieces of land. Some with houses, some without, and some with houses that weren’t long for this world. Looking became our weekend occupation, as we bumped along miles and miles of country roads.

And then one day, Cowboy looked at me and said, “You know, I’m not sure why we’re looking all over the place. Wherever we go, we are going to have to drive to Fossil Rim, so we might as well be close.”

Have I told you that man is a genius? So just like that our search was narrowed to the tippy top of the hill country, where the deer and the giraffes roam.

And the rest is, as they say, history. Ten years ago we bought our dream place, and seven years ago we built our barndominium and moved into Wild Horse Valley. We filled it with our own little zoo of horses, donkeys, cats, and dogs. And we still love to visit Fossil Rim, and even volunteer when we can. In all these years, it still takes my breath away.

In fact, October is one of my absolute favorites at the Rim. The weather is cooler, the animals are frisky, and if you time it just right you can catch the European Red Deer in rutting season and hear their soulful bugling across the park.

A friendly giraffe coming to say hello. If you look closely you’ll see several in the background, and also a gaggle of European Red Deer relaxing in the shade.

It’s easy to take for granted sharing your town with giraffes, rhinos, and cheetahs, but it is truly a gift. If you are in the area, I encourage you drive on out to the Rim, soak up some sunshine, and sit in wonder of our tall neighbors. But I must say, be careful. You may come for the giraffes and find yourself staying for so much more.

P.S. A version of this post was published in the Glen Rose Reporter. This farmgirl is delighted to serve as a community columnist.

Share this:

Like this:

No, this is not a post about smudged eye makeup trends. It’s about our soft-hearted fella of a horse and his journey back to health.

For those of you who follow us on Facebook and Instagram, back in the spring, you saw pics of our big grey mustang Smokey in the equine (a.k.a. horsey) hospital with an eye injury. This is his story.

Horses are fun-loving creatures with big personalities, big bodies, and some times they can get themselves into big trouble. Because we live on a farm with trees and fences and stalls, sometimes these precious babies injury themselves. And try as you might, you simply just can’t fool-proof your farm. (I mean, seriously, we’ve got horses who can open gates, but that is for another time.)

One spring evening at feeding time, Smokey moseyed up to his stall as usual for a snack. But this time, something wasn’t quite right. He had his right eye shut tight, tears streaming down his cheek.

After a little eyelid wrangling, we could see he had something going on with the eyeball itself, and made an after hours call to the vet. Two things to note here. First, trying to pry open a horse’s eye against his will, oh holy cats that is not easy. It’s a crazy combination of eyelids of steel and a bobbing head. Second, as we’ve said before, these things don’t happen between 9 a.m. and 5 p.m. Monday through Friday. Nope, if we are going to injure ourselves, we’re going to do it right. No sense in playing games.

It was quickly determined the next morning that he had, in fact, scratched the eye. Drat! The remedy? Eye meds four times a day should do the trick. Did you see my comment above about strong eyelids? Well it got to be a game. We’d look out and see him with his eye wide open. He’d see us, and yep, you guessed it, he’d slam it shut. Quite honestly, he was just tired of us messing with him.

Seven days went by, and the vet came back out and determined that not enough progress was being made. Smokey was at risk of going blind in that eye. In order to save his vision, he would have to go the horsey hospital where they could put an IV system through his eyelid and dispense medication directly to the eye. (Oh if I could have reasoned with this big beast and told him what was coming, he may have opened his eyelids big and wide.)

Smokey bending down to sniff and be petted. I sat on the floor of his stall, talking to him.

So off he went. It was slow going. And after a week, not only did he still have the eye issue, Smokey decided he didn’t want to eat much and developed a fever. Not eat? That horse has never missed a meal.

Here’s the deal. Horses are herd animals, and mustangs especially. Smokey was born in the wild to a herd, and ever since he arrived at the farm he had his band of fellas, one bossy mare, and two ornery donkeys. Smokey doesn’t leave the farm. It’s his sanctuary. He hates change and snorts and blows at anything different just to let you know he’s paying attention. Heck, once our farrier (that’s a horse pedicure giver for our city friends) showed up in a different vehicle, and Smokey was all about letting us know something changed. He’s observant. To a fault.

So Cowboy and I decided we had to go visit our fella and see if we could help figure out what had him down. I had the wild idea that maybe if we could bring him a sense of home, he’d relax. So I took an old towel and trudged out to the pasture rubbing down all the horses to capture their scents. Yes, they all looked at me funny, quite suspicious, and probably convinced I was just a bit nuts. Cowboy also thought I was slightly off my rocker, but as he always does, he just obliged me.

Smokey sniffing his towel and finding comfort in the scents of home.

Off to the vet we went, towel in hand. Oh if I could just adequately describe that moment. Smokey sniffed and sniffed. He touched his nose to the towel. He visibly perked up. He would move his nose to the towel and then back to take a bite of hay. He was eating!!! He softened to our touch. He was relaxing. My heart was aching for our big grey soulstang – he missed his herd, the people and the four-legged ones.

So Cowboy and I made a promise to him. For the rest of his stay, no matter how long it took, every day one of us would try our best to make the 60-plus mile round trip to talk to him, to brush him, to comfort him. And just like magic, it worked. Slowly but surely, he settled in, his appetite returned, the fever left, and he healed. It took nearly three weeks, but Smokey still had his sight and an even bigger heart.

The veterinary staff getting ready to load Smokey up for the trip home. Let’s just say, this fella is not a the easiest loader. (The patches on his neck were from his IVs. Such a fashion statement.)

These horses continue to teach us so much. No one wants to be alone in this world, and when we’re hurting and scared the most is when we need the touch, the scent, the spirit of home. And if we soak in the healing, we too will be able to see again.

The fellas get reacquainted with some sniffs and nibbles. Horses talk with their ears, and this day they looked like they alls should have all been named radar. Ears twitching every which way.

Smokey’s first day out in the pasture after his return. This is a roll of glee!

P.S. Big thanks to our amazing vets, especially Dr. Imel, at Peak Performance Equine Hospital. They are simply the best. They allowed us to visit Smokey as often as possible, texted us with morning updates, and took the best possible care of our fella. We will be eternally grateful.

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

I grew up in church. Sunday morning, Sunday night, Wednesday night, I was there. Sunday school, choir practice, youth group, sermons, lots and lots of sermons. It’s where my best friends were, and it was the lense I learned to see the world through.

Throughout our years together, Cowboy and I have attended quite the menagerie of churches. We’ve seen the beauty and, unfortunately, some of the really ugly. We’ve been members, participants, told we couldn’t be members, or worse only one of us could join. (If you know us at all, you know we’re a packaged deal. For better or worse, you get both of us.) We’ve taught Sunday school, volunteered, and attended Bible studies.

And right now, we are officially on a break. There, I said it out loud. We are churchless. Without a church. Without a denomination.

But what does that mean? Does it mean our faith in God is diminished? Does it mean we love less? Does it mean we are no longer Christians? Nope, absolutely, 100 percent no. In fact, for us, I would even dare to say that our faith in God, our love, and commitment to what it really means to be a Christ follower is stronger than ever before.

When it comes to church, we have not found the right fit for us, a place that speaks to us, a group where our core values line up. It doesn’t mean it’s not out there, it just means we haven’t found it, and so instead of continuing the exhausting search, we are taking a break.

So what do you do on a break? You have church on the porch. We are intentionally taking time to sit on the porch and soak in the awe and wonder of God’s creation that surrounds us.

Watching the horses laze around the pasture, while dogs nap in the yard. Watching bees and dragonflies buzz through the air, as hummingbirds hover at the feeders. Marveling that a single Basil plant growing out of an old horse trough can smell so fragrant and get so huge. Feeling the breezes on skin warmed by the sun. And being grateful, oh so grateful. Not because everything is perfect, because that will never be the case, but because we’ve let go of the perfect in return for finding peace and joy in the moment.

A fellow church on the porch attendee, Maybelle rests in the shade of a Basil plant.

Observing our surroundings is just one part of church on the porch. There is reading, discussing, listening to music, inspiration of all kinds. For me, church on the porch brings clarity to my crazy thoughts, a deep rooted grace of sorts. The conversations are special, personal, and helpful. Oh, and most importantly judging is banned from the porch. Curiousity is welcomed.

Sometimes church on the porch happens on a random Thursday evening. Sometimes it’s a glorious Sunday morning. Sometimes once a week and sometimes more often. Sometimes for 15 minutes and other times for hours. There are no rules. Just time to revel, to meditate, to laugh. (Laughing is totally okay during church on the porch, in fact it’s encouraged.)

So if you are struggling right now to find the place you fit, don’t be afraid to do what is best to nurture your soul and explore your faith. It may not look very traditional, but what you may find is oh so spiritual.

P.S. I absolutely love to read. Right now I’m working through a series of Rob Bell books, including: What Is the Bible?, Velvet Elvis, Love Wins, and How to Be Here. If you need a little inspiration and are looking for a more expansive, inclusive view of God, I highly recommend these as a great place to start.

P.P.S. Please don’t take this as encouragement to leave your church if it is working for you. We think that is a beautiful thing. This a personal story of finding a new way to express our own faith, while struggling to fit within the traditional boundaries and options present for us.